Broken Glass, Healing Scars
by AstrophobicChick
Summary: If anyone knows Moriarty, it's Greg. Having gone to the same University, Greg knows what Moriarty's like and he knows that this won't end well for anyone. He needed to keep Sherlock safe and stay away from the Consulting Criminal. That was the plan anyway. A plan that was going to backfire big time and send Greg and Jim into each others lives. For better or for worse? Grim AU Dark
1. Chapter 1

Pairings: Greg/Jim

Genre: Angst/Romance/Hurt

Disclaimer: I do not Sherlock. Just this plot.

As soon as Greg Lestrade saw the name 'Moriarty' he felt his heart sink. He didn't just know of him, he **knew **him. Or he used to. Even though there was a ten plus year difference in their ages, they were both at the same University, studying the same damn course. Greg didn't know why Moriarty was studying Law, he also didn't know why the Irish man never got kicked off the course for hardly turning up. All he knew was that that Moriarty and this Moriarty was the same person.

He swallowed, putting the newspaper down and grabbing his coffee to take a large sip. He needed this. He wasn't sorry to see the back of Moriarty all those years ago. The guy was a weirdo, a loner, someone who found causing others pain amusing. Greg often caught him stood at the top of the stairs, just staring into space or at Greg himself. He never spoke, never bothered him personally. Yet he was still there and that unnerved Greg greatly. He knew back then that the guy was trouble and he was right.

The photo of Moriarty on the newspaper made him shiver. He hadn't changed at all. Same dark hair, same smug eyes. If this man was after Sherlock then Greg himself was in trouble. He crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it into the bin, quickly followed by his empty coffee cup. Maybe he could hand the case to someone else. Didn't Dimmock want more recognition? He could happily deal with Moriarty and Greg could go back to dealing with homicide. That was **his** division after all. Not this. Not dealing with his past.

The door opened and he looked up to see Donovan hovering, vulture like, in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go for lunch? It's just gone two and you've been hidden away in here all morning. Stressing case?"

Greg blinked and looked at the clock. Shit. Where had the time gone? He was getting himself too deep into this case and it would soon bite him in the arse. He couldn't afford to take any sick days. With his wife gone he was the only one paying the bills and his paycheck barely covered the essentials anymore.

He pushed Moriarty into the back of his mind and got up, grabbing his coat and scarf. Donovan had gone back to her desk and made a noise of impatience as he walked out, placing some paperwork onto Anderson's desk as he passed.

'What?" He said, slightly defensively. **Calm down. Calm down**_**.** _He took a deep breath and arranged his face into it's normal position of 'I'm fine. Really. I'm fine. No I'm not. Why won't you notice?' and opened his mouth again, "Sorry, I'm just really stressed out right now, what with my ex wife and now this."

"Maybe you should take a break? Otherwise you'll just run yourself into the ground." She lead the way down the corridor, Greg following close behind, and outside towards the tube station. Greg loved riding on the tube. He could sit and look miserable and no one would ask him if he was alright. No one would even bat an eyelid if he jumped in front of the next train. No one would notice if he ran himself into the ground, because as long as he put on that fake smile and laughed every now and then, everyone thought he was fine.

"So, Moriarty huh?" Donovan said as they jumped onto the escalators taking them underground, "Who do you think he is? Another psychopath?"

**I know he's a psychopath. He'll bring us all down. We should run and never look back.**** He's dangerous.** Greg coughed weakly and shrugged, moving to one side so that other people could walk down. The impatient people. Would waiting another 30 seconds really make much difference to their life? He zoned out, ignoring Donovan's pointed looks in his direction, and stepped off the other end on autopilot.

They jumped onto the train to Leicester Square and Greg made sure to sit as far away from Donovan as possible. If he so much as heard the name 'Moriarty' one more time he would surely flip. His planned backfired however as nearly everyone on the tube was reading the same newspaper as the one he had in his office. Moriarty's face was everywhere and Greg wanted to get away. He glanced at the map and saw that he still had three stops to go until theirs. **You can do this. Just remain calm. Maybe he won't remember you.** He closed his eyes and saw memories flicker around in his mind; Moriarty dropping a bag of bricks onto his tutor, who had to be airlifted to hospital, Moriarty 'accidentally' pushing a first year down the stairs, Moriarty throwing bleach on his ex girlfriend, Moriarty stabbing some guy who laughed at him. **Sherlock won't get out of this alive. I can feel it.**

He felt someone nudge him in the side and looked up to see Donovan staring at him with wide eyes, "Our stop is next. What is **wrong** with you?"

"Think I'm coming down with something." Greg replied quietly. Most people on this tube knew who he was and he didn't need them to think he was stressed. Even though he **was** stressed as hell. **Fake smile. Just smile at them. That's it. People really are stupid. Smile at Donovan as well, she's looking suspicious**_**.** _Greg looked up and gave her his 'I'm fine, leave me alone' smile, to which she narrowed her eyes and looked away. **Stupid.**

Their stop came thirty seconds later and Greg jumped up, eagerly pushing his way off the train. A load of school children had just boarded and were swarming around him like bees. He had to get off. Now. Reaching the platform, he didn't bother looking for Donovan, he just wanted to get outside into fresh air so that he could calm his erratically beating heart. He ran up the left side of the escalators, ignoring the stuff he thought earlier. He **needed** those thirty extra seconds. To him, they were thirty seconds between life and death. He shoved his Oyster card into the machine and bolted through the gates, not caring if people were looking at him. He had to get outside. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel, he could see buses and people and normality. The only thing between him and freedom was the man selling newspapers. Greg practically knocked him over in his haste to get outside and didn't bother to stop and help him pick up the papers strewn all over the floor. He muttered an apology and ran up the final steps.

The sun hit his face and he felt himself instantly relax. Leicester Square was busy as usual and he couldn't make out anyones conversations. Even better was the fact that he saw **no** newspapers. Moving out of the way of the entrance, he leant against the nearest wall and bent over, hands on his legs, waiting for Donovan to catch up.


	2. Chapter 2

Pairings: Jim/Greg

Genre: Angst/Romance/Hurt

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Just this plot.

A week after the tube incident and Greg's life was slowly getting worse. Moriarty was now **everywhere **and there was no escape from him. He was being broadcasted on all television channels and everyone in Scotland Yard was talking about how he managed to break into those three places. Even Sherlock was obsessed with him.

To make matters even worse, if that was possible, Donovan had told his boss about the tube incident and Greg was now being watched 24/7. He was sure no one knew the history between him and Moriarty, but if the media **did** get hold of that information then he **really** didn't want to face the world anymore. The press already hated him for his sarcastic response to the 'Don't commit suicide' case, something his boss gladly brought up at every chance possible. **Bastard. What was I meant to say? **

He tapped his pen against the desk and attempted to bring his mind back into focus. **Concentrate. This is important.**Picking up a file, he flicked through and paused at a particular paragraph.

**'James Moriarty, 36, was today released from prison after the jury made a unanimous decision to let him go. Nobody knows how, or why, the jury found him not guilty, considering the fact that he had no evidence to support his 'non guilty' claim. Apparently the Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes, was called in to give his own evidence, before being thrown into the jail himself for not listening to the judge.'**

He put the file back down and frowned. It didn't surprise him that Moriarty was free. This was the guy who could have a 30% attendance record at University and not get kicked off the course. No, What scared Greg the most was the pure fact that no one could see what Moriarty was doing. He broke into three top security locations and then walked free, yet nobody, **nobody**, has even batted an eyelid. **No one cares. Not until it's too late.** What did Moriarty want anyway? What was he trying to do, apart from show off to the world? Greg scratched his head with the tip of his pen and got up to make some coffee.

The office was quiet today. Donovan had gone home early, Dimmock was out on a case and Carter was on holiday. **Thank God. He's practically salivating over the fact I may soon be fired. Asshole.** Which left just him and Anderson. He padded over to the coffee machine and grabbed a fresh cup, humming to himself as the coffee machine whirred into life and started pouring a black coffee-like substance into his cup.

"Hey Greg, how's it going?"

Anderson sidled up beside him, holding a handful of files. He leant against the table and eyed Greg closely, "You look like crap. The boss working you hard still?"

"You know he is, Anderson, you're in my freaking division." Greg grabbed his cup and turned to go back to his office when Anderson grabbed his arm, pulling him around. 'What?!"

"They're suspicious of you, Greg. They think you know more about Moriarty than you're letting on. I heard the Chief talking about it to another DI. You need to watch your back."

Greg couldn't help but laugh, "Anderson, you've been watching too many movies. Why would they suspect **me**_**?** _That's ridiculous."

Releasing his grip on Greg's arm, Anderson started backing away to his desk, "Why do you think I'm still here? It's 8pm, I never work this late. The boss is making me keep an eye on you and I don't like it. Not one bit. Please Greg, be careful."

He flopped down into his chair and pulled out a couple of plastic dinosaurs, chucking them up into the air. Greg paused, coffee still in his hand, then quickly made his way back to his office. **They don't trust me. They think I'm working with Moriarty. How stupid can they get?** He slammed his cup down onto the desk and collapsed into his chair, running both hands down his face wearily. The quicker this case was over, the better. Then he could go back to the normal, dull, predictable, **safe** cases. The ones that didn't give him nightmares.

A low buzzing brought him out of his daydream and he fumbled around in his jacket pocket, pulling out the still vibrating Iphone. The ID showed up as Unknown but that didn't mean anything as a lot of people liked to play jokes on him these days. What scared him was the message underneath.

**Hello Lestrade,**

**Guess who's back?**

**JM**

He felt a shiver run down his back and dropped the phone onto the desk. **He's found me. How? How did he get my number? Sherlock? The press? HOW?** He grabbed the phone back up and typed a hasty reply. He didn't even know if it would get through but he had to **try_._** Pressing send, he put the phone back down and waited. His adrenaline was spiking and he could barely sit still in his chair. His hands were now covered in a thin layer of sweat and his heart was trying to break away from his chest. **No. No this can't be happening. He barely knew me. **

His phone vibrated again and he snatched it up, reading the reply before it faded.

**I've managed to break into three high security places, Greg, you think I couldn't get your number?**

**Your colleagues aren't very loyal to you. The first one I threatened handed it over. Dimmock, was it?**

**Easy peasy.**

**JM**

Dimmock. Dimmock handed Moriarty his number. The Dim of the Yard as Sherlock called him was really living up to his name right now. He didn't know what to do. Should he tell his boss? Would his boss believe him? Would his boss question him as to **why** Moriarty was texting **him** of all people? He was already suspicious. If Greg told him this new information then surely he would be fired on the spot. Anderson's words came flooding back to him '**He thinks you know more about Moriarty than you're letting on**' and now, he did. Fuck.

**What do you want?**

**GL**

His finger hovered over the send button. Surely one more text couldn't hurt? It was just a simple question. He wanted to know why Moriarty was texting him. What's wrong with that? He pressed send and wiped his brow. The stress was surely going to kill him soon. He could practically **feel **his heart acting as a ticking time bomb with Moriarty at the detonator.

**Just wanted to congratulate you on becoming a DI. Well done.**

**I didn't think you had it in you. None of us did. You were always so ordinary.**

**Have a nice day, Gregory.**

**JM**

Greg just had time to read the text before his phone switched itself off. He picked it up and pressed the power button over and over yet it didn't respond. The screen remained black and his mind remained blurry. Coincidence? Or was this something more? He looked up to see Anderson watching him through the window, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

Greg looked back down at his phone and swallowed. Something big was coming and there was nothing, **nothin****g**_**,** _he could do to stop it.


End file.
